


A Rainbow Helicopter Costs a Lot

by Saxifactumterritum



Series: Moments universe [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Stargate, Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 16:25:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saxifactumterritum/pseuds/Saxifactumterritum
Summary: What was that job that Rodney worked to get the money for John's helicopter?





	A Rainbow Helicopter Costs a Lot

**Author's Note:**

> I've tried to write this stupid thing like four times, I GIVE UP THIS WILL JUST HAVE TO DO OKAY? I didn't want it to be painstakingly angsty. 
> 
> WARNINGS (and slight spoilers): 
> 
> family angst, controlling father in the past referenced, John's family seems a bit shitty, complicated sibling relationship, panic attacks maybe

The second week John has his very own rainbow helicopter, he’s giving a lesson on the Wednesday (not in the rainbow, she’s in with Coleman having a fix-up). His pupil is a bored socialite who has no interest in flying, he seems more interested in sprawling and trying to flirt. Possibly. John perseveres, this guy’s family is paying Ellis a lot of money for weekly lessons. He makes his voice flat and goes into plenty of detail about the helicopter and how to read the instruments, which is supposed to be today’s lesson. The guy eventually gives up on subtlety and outright suggests he gives John a blow job. John just says ‘no thank you’ and carries on the lesson. He considers pretending to crash the helicopter. He could easy do that, the guy hasn’t listened to a word of any of his lessons, it’d be super easy to just let things spin a little out of control, make an impression. Instead, he makes the lesson extra boring and lands safely. Once the guy’s gone, John goes to Ellis’s office to complain. Ellis is weirdly solicitous, welcoming John in and kicking out a chair for him to sit.

“Shep,” Ellis says, after a long pause. Which is a bad,  _ bad _ sign. He calls John ‘John’, or ‘Sheppard’, or sometimes ‘colonel’ if he wants to make a point. Not Shep. John sits up straight.

“Is someone dead?” John asks, going cold. 

“No,” Ellis says quickly. “No one’s dead. I got a call, I thought you’d probably want to know. I didn’t confirm anything, I’m sure you have good reasons.”

“Confirm what?” John asks. 

“That you work for me, or that if a John Sheppard did work for me that he’s specifically the Colonel Sheppard they want,” Ellis says. “Who was your husband working for? To get that money.”

“He’s not my husband,” John says. ”We’re not married.”

“Ask him. It might help explain why David Sheppard is making calls to me,” Ellis says. 

“Dav- Dave rang?” John asks. He never got shot in the chest, did he? Bust a few ribs, but those healed up well, it shouldn’t hurt. Maybe he’s punctured a lung or something. 

“I think it was a secretary or something, actually,” Ellis says, shrugging. “You have a couple more lessons this afternoon, so you need to breathe. Is he family?”

“My brother,” John says. “Or he used to be. Lessons, right, ok. Did I remember to file any paperwork on those?”

“No,” Ellis says. 

“Right. I’ll get on that,” John says, heading to the main office to see who he’s got, see if he needs to put in a flight plan or if it’ll just be staying on the ground. Putting Dave right out of mind.

It’s a short day, but it feels long. He finishes at three and heads to Radek’s lab, seeing as Rodney hasn’t got any teaching hours today and is still ‘comforting’ Radek over the ‘possibly a breakup, or his pigeon might’ve died’. John finds them yelling at each other, which is their favourite pass-time. He tries to get Rodney’s attention but fails spectacularly so he goes to sit at Rodney’s desk (it’s not actually Rodney’s, seeing as Rodney doesn’t work here, but no one ever says it’s not Rodney’s and whoever does work there has long ago been scared off and forgotten). On his way there he catches sight of a logo and name on some specs. He pulls the stuff off the top and stares at it, his head feeling funny and light. He sits down, misses anything like a chair, and hits the floor. 

“John!”

It’s Radek, not Rodney, who notices. John struggles back up and stumbles to where there is a chair, sitting there instead of on the floor. His back hurts, but he can’t quite feel it, not over the pain in his chest, the pounding of too much blood in his head, or too little. 

“Hey,” Rodney says, perching on the desk and pressing his thigh to John’s, hand out if John wants to take it; minimal physical contact, layers of clothes between them, not trapping John in if he wants to move away. 

“I hate you,” John says, feeling a little bit miserable about how careful Rodney’s being. 

“Uh, ok, um,” Rodney says, eyes wide and confused.

“Those are yours, aren’t they?” John asks, pointing at the papers. “Not Radek’s.”

“They are not mine,” Radek confirms. “Rodney comes, he brings all his crap and spreads it out everywhere, ruining my-”

“Shut up,” John says. Radek goes silent. Rodney’s lips twitch in amusement. “Rodney.  _ Rodney _ .”

“What?” Rodney asks. 

“It’s a subsidiary of Sheppard Holdings,” John whispers. “My father’s… or maybe my brother’s company, now. Dave found me, he rang Ellis. I haven’t talked to them since I was seventeen, McKay!” 

“Ooh,” Radek says, eyes very wide, lapping it all up. John wants to throw something at him. He’s half out of his chair before he realises, Rodney already grabbing him and pressing him back down. 

“Back off, Radek,” Rodney says. “This isn’t gossip.”

“This is my lab,” Radek says. He’s already clearing the room, though, giving them the space, sending everyone for lunch. 

“Why did you lock him in a closet?” John asks, suddenly remembering, frowning up at Rodney. 

“What?” Rodney says. “When did I do that? I never-”

“Yes you did,” Radek interrupts. “His theory was wrong, John, he was refusing to see sense, he got mad.”

“It was not!” Rodney says. 

“You do not even remember what we are talking about,” Radek points out. 

“I’m never wrong.”

John starts to laugh, thinking suddenly of what his father would think of his helicopter. He hadn’t minded much that John was queer, not really, but the ostentatious, attention-drawing, garish thing would have offended him just because it was ‘gimicky’ and ‘tacky’. No sophistication. John laughs harder and presses his forehead against Rodney’s thigh, gasping for breath. 

“Easy,” Rodney says, hand massaging the back of John’s neck, his shoulders. “Did you hurt yourself, when you fell just then?”

“More than twenty years,” John says, sighing, laughter petering out. “And he finds me because you want to make enough money to buy me something that’d make my father roll over in his grave. It’s poetry.”

“I didn’t know,” Rodney says. “I do a bit of research into the people I work for, but honestly, I mostly just check they’re not going to be using my tech to blow shit up.”

“How on earth are  _ you _ a pacifist?” John wonders. 

“I’m not. I just believe in violence only when necessary, and in the hands of people who aren’t bloody idiots,” Rodney says. 

“I don’t even know if Dad’s dead,” John says. “You work for my father, god damn it!”

“Don’t break anything,” Rodney warns, grabbing John before he can sweep everything away. “Radek would have to pay for it. Or we would.”

“I did not want him to know where I am,” John says, getting to his feet and shoving Rodney away. “I’m not going to break things, let go!”

“Ok, ok,” Rodney says. “I’m sorry, ok? Did Ellis tell him where you are?”

“No,” John says. “He’s… Ellis is a good guy.”

“Did… was it the gay thing?” Rodney asks. 

“No. Not everything is because I’m gay, McKay,” John snaps. “Come on, are you coming or not?”

The drive home is quiet. John knows intellectually that none of this is Rodney’s fault, especially as he’s never mentioned his family. He’s heard about Rodney’s brilliant but distant sister, Jeannie, and spoke to her on the phone once, and he knows she does some of the math for Rodney, but they haven’t really talked about family. It seems remiss of them, now. They spend two days knocking around the same house, living around one another, managing to avoid fighting but also mostly avoiding each other. They have stilted conversations, trying not to discuss anything that’ll start a fight. They sleep in the same bed but Rodney comes in late and John’s up and out early for a run. He thinks about calling Ronon, or looking up Teyla. 

Teyla has two kids now and would probably kick is ass for being a coward. She runs some sort of fight school, he doesn’t want to be beaten to the mats by her over and over again. He got enough of that in the service. Ronon would just make him run a lot and fly into storms and call it therapeutic. It really isn’t Rodney’s fault. He’s careful, at home, like he’s walking on eggshells around John, and it’s not fair at all but John just feels so angry and helpless whenever he thinks about it. Maybe having his ass kicked would be good for him. He tries not to take his anger out on Rodney and ends up walking on eggshells, too. It’s miserable. 

And then he gets into work on the third day and finds David Sheppard standing in the middle of the tiny staff room, in a very expensive suit, looking very out of place. Chuck’s eating an egg sandwich, seemingly completely relaxed. John can see the tension in him, ready for anything. He’s just winding Dave up; the more relaxed Chuck is, the more tense Dave seems to get. As soon as John steps in to get to his locker, Dave’s across the room. Chuck stands up, too, getting accidentally in the way, and there are a few moments of chaos as Chuck gets mayonnaise on Dave’s jacket, egg on his pants, and trips him with a chair and-

“Chuck,” John says, exasperated. “Hey, Dave.”

“Johnathan,” Dave says, stiff, straightening his clothes as Chuck backs off a bit. 

“Chuck,” John says again, more firmly. Chuck glowers but stalks off, slamming the door to the control room, his domain. He’s an ace at the radios, John sometimes wonders how Ellis got him. “Sorry about that.”

“No,” Dave says. “Can we go somewhere?”

“Have a seat,” John says. “I’ll make some coffee. Eight sugars and three quarters milk, right?”

“Johnny, I hate coffee, I always did,” Dave says, sitting. He sounds exasperated too. 

“Tea?” John asks, shuffling through the stuff on the tray by the kettle. “Uh, mint tea? Chamomile tea? Oh, look, Horlicks. What the hell’s Horlicks?”

“A British drink. Kind of like oatmeal I think,” Dave says. 

“Oatmeal?” John asks, peering at the jar. That doesn’t sound right. “Gross. You want?”

“No,” Dave says. “Nor do I want tea.”

“Oh. Orange juice? We could nick the colonel’s or-or-, um, o-orange juice,” John says, opening the tiny fridge. “Hm, or Chuck’s Coke, you could have-”

“I’m good.”

John makes himself a coffee and brings some cookies to the table. He’s pretty sure they belong to Brendan Gall, who does all their accounts and half the admin stuff that they forget about. He’s a fairly quiet man, he’ll probably not mind. Dave accepts a single cookie on a plate and breaks it neatly in half, not eating any. John shrugs and dunks one in his coffee, taking a big slurp. 

“I looked for you before, you know,” Dave says. “I thought the Air Force would keep better records.”

“They keep meticulous records, they just don’t share,” John says. 

“Couldn’t believe it when your husband ended up working for me,” Dave says. “I couldn’t find much, but the PI I hired found out where he spent the money.”

“We're not married. PI?”

“I looked for you for twenty years!” Dave roars, suddenly loud, taking up space even as he sits there primly, breaking half his cookie in half again. John flinches slightly, he usually does at suddenly loud noises these days. “Sorry. I looked, you were my little brother of course I tried to get in touch with you, and of course I hired someone to help. I just wanted to talk, to see you, something. Anything. I’m not Dad. Even he changed at the end, anyway.”

“You made your choice,” John says. 

“I was at college, I didn’t even know what you were fighting about, you ran,” Dave says. “And before that, I was a teenager. I didn’t do the best job in the world at protecting you, or even noticing you needed that,” Dave says. “I’m sorry for not knowing it was bad for you.”

“It-it-it... it wasn’t particularly,” John says. “Not, not really. There’s worse.”

“I’m still sorry I got it wrong,” Dave says. “I wanted to say that. You don’t have to accept my apology, I don’t expect it to magically fix things.”

John shrugs and stirs his coffee. It’s full of soggy bits of cookie, now. He doesn’t even like these cookies, and after years of Rodney’s coffee, the weak-as-piss instant crap they have here doesn’t make the grade either. He has a thermos of good coffee, but he doesn’t want to go get it. He sits in silence, pretending to be occupied with his drink, wondering what Dave’ll say next. Not a lot, it turns out. He just sits too, and they’re still like that, in a kind of weird standoff, when Ellis comes stomping in for his juice. 

“You’re supposed to be flying some fancy VIP, Sheppard,” Ellis says, kicking the leg of John’s chair as he passes. 

“Sorry sir, got sidetracked,” John says, getting to his feet. “Dave, I’ve got work. You can-”

“I’m the fancy VIP,” Dave says. “I booked you for five hours, just in case you were too busy to talk.”

“Crap,” John says. “Do I have to actually fly you somewhere?”

“Yes, I have a meeting, and I paid for a service,” Dave says, gathering his things. 

John laughs, incredulous, but Dave’s serious and as he paid, Ellis makes John do it. They take the helicopter because that’s what Dave requested. John wants to take the one with the custom paint-job, but Ellis just glares at him. He is very much not happy that John’s ‘family drama’ is leaking all over Ellis’s nice little company. John is not particularly happy about it either. He spends a miserable hour long flight to Dave’s meeting, waits for three hours, and then spends another miserable flight back. Dave doesn’t even talk, doesn’t even seem to have anything to say. When they land John just leaves everything to Dusty, Coleman’s very capable XO in all things. She leans more toward mechanic than Coleman, John likes her. He likes all the people he works with. She manages to get a tiny bit of oil on Dave’s jacket, just by accident. John would run if he thought he’d ever live that down. Instead he goes at a fast walk, fast enough to almost be a sprint. He doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t care, just wants to be put space between him and his brother. 

“Running away again?” Dave calls, walking at a dignified pace a couple of metres back. “You might have lived with him longer when we were kids, but I’m the one who went back! Who picked up the pieces! He changed, and he wanted to say goodbye to you before he died, and you weren’t there! Not only were you not there for him, you weren’t there for me, what did I ever do to you?”

“You left!” John yells, turning, making for Dave, so angry all of a sudden. “You left, you left! You left me in that empty house with  _ him _ and you, you, you.”

John can’t even say it all, all the hurt and fear bubbling up and out of him until he’s hyperventilating, pressed tight against Dave’s chest, sobbing for breath. He doesn’t want this, doesn’t want Dave’s arms around him, doesn’t want Dave crying. He doesn’t want to be stood here clinging to his stupid brother, who left over and over and over again and forgot to look back for John who could never quite keep up. Not in the eyes of their father. 

“Let him go. He’s panicking, you need to let go.”

Rodney’s voice is calm and sure and John turns toward it automatically, Dave’s arms loosening. Rodney presses one hand against John’s back, between his shoulder blades where it hurts sometimes (not the real pain, the phantom one, the one that comes with memories older than John wants to recall). His other hand spreads, warm and firm, against John’s chest. 

“He’s ok,” Rodney assures. “Doesn’t happen often, usually it’s me having panic attacks. Just let it go, John, you’ll be fine in a minute. I’m just gonna talk, right? We know the drill.”

They do. John listens to Rodney talking about his research, listens out for the numbers, closes his eyes and listens to Rodney’s familiar voice. He could hear it even when Rodney wasn’t there, held onto it when he didn’t have any way to reach it, in Afghanistan. All that sand, all that heat. He never really saw the country, never met any of the people. Not really. His mind wanders, his breathing coming easier as Rodney’s voice grows a bit hoarse. He pries his eyes open, tired, and finds Rodney right there, watching John’s face. He smiles, and his eyes go so, so blue John thinks he’s falling. 

“Hello,” John says. 

“Ellis called,” Rodney says. 

“He’s an okay guy,” John says.

“I brought Carson,” Rodney says, smile going amused and smug. “Left him to deal with your brother. Um, John, I hate to… but...”

“I didn’t want to see him,” John says, sighing. Then he sighs again, because he’s not seventeen now, not anymore. “Invite him for dinner, if you want. We’re never going to be close, we never were. But, I can do dinner.”

“Maybe he’s trying.”

“He’s not you,” John says, looking down at his hands, at Rodney’s hand on his chest. “You’re not Dave.”

“I didn’t protect Jeannie,” Rodney says. “I didn’t help her.”

“That’s not…” John isn’t sure he can explain it, isn’t sure he has the words. It wasn’t a matter of protection. Their father didn’t hurt them, not really.

“Is this-”

“This isn’t the gay thing,” John says. “He didn’t care about that. It’d almost be easier if it was because of that. People understand that better. They treated me fine, I wasn’t… they weren’t bad people.”

“Shall I take you home?”

John shrugs. He’s more okay than he expected, actually. He doesn’t feel any burning desire to make friends with Dave, or have a ‘brother he always wanted’, but he’s not going to cry or collapse or anything. Even the anger’s mostly bled away, the shock of seeing him again. He thinks of Rodney coming, just as John began wanting him there he was. Knowing exactly what to do. He realises he’s smiling only because Rodney’s looking at him like he’s crazy. 

“Certifiable, yes,” John agrees, linking their arms. “C’mon, let’s go invite him for dinner. Save Carson. Also, you’re gonna have to stop calling me crazy, it’s politically incorrect.”

“We both technically count as medically crazy, we’re reappropriating it,” Rodney says. “Also, I don’t care about being politically correct. Shut up.”

They stroll back to the office. Dave’s sat outside, on the bench, Carson Becket sitting beside him. Neither of them are crying, Dave still doesn’t look like there’s a hair out of place. His eyes are a little pink, though, and he looks really sad when he sees John coming. Dusty materialises and tells John he’s supposed to be helping her this afternoon, seeing as Coleman’s on parental leave and she can’t do three people’s jobs on her own. He nearly accepts the excuse, but then catches sight of Dave out of the corner of his eye and he looks tired but hopeful, and he actually looks like John remembers, even though he was twenty last time John saw him and eighteen last time John saw him for any length of time. 

“Dinner,” John says, hands in his pockets, looking down at Dave. “I’m not making promises. We’re not going to talk about it. I can’t talk about it, ok?”

“Yeah, pretty much literally,” Rodney grumbles, ambling up with John’s thermos of coffee, helping himself. 

“That’s mine,” John says. 

“Really, really isn’t,” Rodney says. Which is fair; it’s his coffee maker, his beans, his thermos even, and he’s the one who made it this morning. John nicked it out of his bag. Rodney rolls his eyes when John smirks. 

“So, we’ll go to dinner, and you can…” John frowns, looking at Dave. “Maybe you can tell me a bit about who you are now.”

“I can do that,” Dave says. 

“Good. I’ll have my secretary,” John says, indicating Rodney, “call yours. Give the man a card, he’ll sort it.”

Rodney splutters as John goes to help Dusty Mehra with this afternoon’s maintenance rosta before his lesson this evening. He knows Rodney will take the details he needs, and he knows that Rodney will pretend to be offended and cross, but he won’t mind really. He also knows that Ellis will not accept any more business from Sheppard Holdings, or from Dave personally. Too much drama. John stops by the shop at lunchtime to get him some more juice and a pack of his favourite chocolate in apology. He also, on a whim, buys Dusty and Chuck some of the ‘super sourz’ sweets they’re obsessed with and a bunch of other stuff. 

* * *

Rodney’s at Radek’s lab again, they’re still trying to work out the last kinks in this project before they publish their findings. Radek’s bent over a laptop muttering in Czech, Rodney watches him, eating a packet of chips he nicked from John’s lunchbox this morning, thinking about nothing in particular, when his phone rings. He doesn’t usually answer when he’s working, but seeing as he’s currently mostly just spacing out he picks it up, smiling when he recognises John’s number. 

“Hey,” Rodney says. “Need a save? I’m across town but I’ve got the car.”

//it’s David Sheppard here, is that Dr McKay? We met once, you’ve spoken to my secretary.//

“Uh, yeah, I know who you are, didn’t John turn up for dinner? He was meeting you after work?” Rodney says, turning away from Radek’s sharp-eyed blinks of worry. 

//Oh, no, he showed up alright.//

“OK good,” Rodney says. “Why are you calling me from his phone? Wait, why  _ are  _ you calling me? Is he ok?”

//Sure, I reckon he’s fine, he’s just incredibly drun- no, no, Johnathan don’t-//

//hey there, Rodney!//

“Hi,” Rodney says, unable to keep from smiling. John always rolls the ‘r’ of Rodney’s name around when he’s drunk. His drawl also gets lower and slower. “Are you good?”

//Yep. I’m good, Rodney. It’s Rodney, Davey! He rang for me.//

“I didn’t, you’re brother rang because you’re very, very drunk. Are you upright?”

“You need a ride?” Radek asks, sotto-voce. Rodney shakes his head, waving Radek away. “Hm. I’ll go get you coffee and water.”

//I’m on a chair, I don’t really need to be upright. Um, Rodney?//

“Yeah?”

//David’s here. He’s, he’s… that’s my- my brother.//

“Yeah.”

//got a little bit, um, just a sm-sm- a smidge, mind. Got a bit nervous.//

“I see. And decided what sounds like a bottle of whiskey would help? At least it’s on-form. Can I talk to your brother a moment?”

//Nah. You can talk to me. You don’t want to talk to to to to … to me?//

“Sure I do,” Rodney says, stuffing his things in his bag as Radek returns with his thermos and a sealed bottle of water. “Thanks, Radek. I’ll text you later.”

“Yes, good. Go,” Radek says, shrugging. 

//But you wanted to talk to, talk to, t-t-... Rodney?//

“Just to tell him the plan,” Rodney assures. “You ok with him for… fifteen minutes? Oh, wait, traffic. Make it twenty.”

//No.//

“Uh huh. Are you pouting?”

//uh huh.//

Rodney smiles again, putting his phone in the carrier in the car and setting up his handsfree. He asks again to talk to Dave and this time John lets him, Rodney pulls out into the road as Dave comes back on.

“I’m gonna come and get him,” Rodney says. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. He’ll probably want to drink some more, ice cream might work as a distraction if they have ice cream? He likes ice cream.”

//You want me to buy him ice cream. Jonathan, don’t-//

//Are you bringing ice cream? I want some. Bring me some. You know the kind I like.//

“Dave’s going to buy you some. Do you still have whiskey there?”

//yep. Li’l bit left. I’ll just get rid of that…. No, no, D-D-... Davey, don’t… that’s  _ mine _ . Give it back! It’s mine.//

Rodney listens to Dave trying to keep John from getting drunker for a while, then coaxes John to let him talk to Dave again and tells him to just let John drink. Dave gets annoyed and then ice cream arrives and Rodney listens to John explaining to Rodney why ice cream is a beautiful thing. He sits in traffic for a bit after that. John’s put him on speaker and by the sounds of it is trying to hum Johnny Cash songs and ignoring Dave, who’s trying to have a conversation. He sounds increasingly frustrated and Rodney’s glad when he arrives at the restaurant and can pull into a parking spot only ten minutes walk away. He hangs up and gets out, pocketing his phone and keys and taking the walk at a jog. It’s a bit upmarket from where he and John usually eat, a bar at the front and tables further in. He scans the room but can’t see John and Dave, so he nabs the greeter. 

“Yes, the drunk and his brother, they’re at the back,” she says, looking annoyed. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get a good tip. Just show me, for god’s sake, save the judgement for someone who cares,” Rodney snaps.

She stalks ahead of him, moving fast, and gestures at a table tucked out of sight. John’s sprawled, head tipped back, a whiskey bottle tucked into one arm. Dave’s sat opposite, very upright, very prim, very proper. Rodney drags up a chair. He knows John drunk; there’s no way he’ll just stand up and walk out easy. 

“Hey,” Rodney says. Dave, who’s not drunk and noticed Rodney’s arrival, gives him a nod. John’s head turns dopily and he gapes at Rodney, face lighting up. 

“Rodney! Look, Davey, it’s Rodney! This is Rodney,” John says. “Rodney, this is Davey, he’s my  _ brother _ . Did you know I have a brother? I didn’t, I’d forgotten.”

“I knew,” Rodney says, gently. “How’re you doing, Dave?”

“It’s fine,” Dave says. “I’ll go pay the bill.”

“Don’t pay for his,” Rodney says. “He’ll not thank you if you do.”

“I don’t want thanks,” Dave says. John’s singing again, softly, crooning into his bottle. Rodney’s lips twitch, affection for the idiot making him soft. He focuses on Dave, though. 

“He mightn’t forgive you, if you try and pay for things for him,” Rodney says. “It’s a sore spot. Here, take some cash, see if you can get a coffee. Double shot, espresso.”

Rodney pulls out bills from his wallet and John sits up, stopping singing, reaching for the money. Rodney takes John’s hand instead and John kisses his knuckles. Dave goes, shoulders a bit tight. John looks up and his face falls, shutters coming up. 

“He’s just going to pay,” Rodney says. “With my money, don’t worry. He’s coming back.”

“Pissed him off,” John says, sitting up, pushing a hand through his hair and setting the bottle on the table with great precision and care. “I didn’t mean to- to- to… t-to fuck up.”

Rodney shrugs. He doesn’t really know what to say to that. John seems to forget it all in a second, seeing Dave coming back (that was quick - they definitely want John out of here). He gives Rodney a grin and then slides off his chair, sitting under the table with his back to the wall, laughing. Rodney knocks his ankle against John’s and gets a knock back. 

“Not again,” Dave mutters. “Jonathan, get up.”

“Give him a minute,” Rodney says, indicating that Dave should sit. “He’s hiding.”

“He already went under there once. I got him out with ice cream before,” Dave says.

“You want to come up, John?” Rodney asks. John shakes his head, dragging his knees up and resting his arms on them. Rodney hesitates, then decides it’s fine if John wants to sit under the table. 

“How’s it going, otherwise?” Rodney asks Dave. Who finally cracks a smile. 

“It’s alright, actually. The whole getting drunk because I’m so terrible,” Dave says, shrugging. He shrugs like John does, like it’s a ‘fuck you’ to the world. “We never much liked each other growing up, I dealt with Dad by adhering to everything he wanted, toeing the line. Didn’t realise till later that John wasn’t being rebellious or refusing, where I found it easy to do as Dad said, John… couldn’t. I might actually like him, this time around.”

“No rehashing the past,” Rodney reminds him. John’s not paying them any attention, though, so no harm no foul really. 

“I know,” Dave says, smiling again. “I don’t know if he told you why he’s so mad at me, that’s all. Dad was controlling. He changed, later on, and made amends to me. John doesn’t want to hear any of this, I know. He asked me about the horses.”

“I like horses,” John mumbles from under the table. Dave huffs a soft laugh. 

“Didn’t used to,” Dave says. “Anyway. My best friend’s a trainer, he’s a great guy. Maybe you guys can come see a race sometime? I haven’t got a husband to introduce you to, I haven’t got any family actually… but you could meet Moss.”

“Cool,” John says. “That’s cool.”

He crawls out and back into his seat as someone brings the coffee Rodney ordered. He sips it quietly, listening while Rodney asks a few questions to get Dave talking a bit about his life, his business, his passion for greener energy and saving the world, his love for his horses. When John’s finished the coffee they head out, Rodney leaving a generous tip as promised. The Sheppard brothers walk ahead, both with their hands shoved in their pockets, not really talking. John shambles, when he’s drunk, walks in a continual slouch. Dave’s still standing very straight. It’s an interesting contrast. 

“Get home safe,” Dave says, at the car. “Maybe we could try this again? With less whiskey.”

“ _ More  _ whiskey,” John corrects, waving a hand around dangerously. “Whiskey is good for you, Davey.”

“It’s David,” Dave says. 

“An’, an’, an’  _ my  _ name is most definitely  _ not  _ Jonathan,  _ Davey _ ,” John says. “I wanted  _ John _ . Dad was the one who, who, who… sneaked. Put on Jonathan on the forms.”

“I didn’t know that,” Dave says, softly. “He did?”

“Yeah,” John says, shrugging. “I was eight, what was I gonna do? Fight him? He thought ‘John’ wasn’t respectable enough or something. Didn’t matter much.”

“Sure it did,” Dave says, still soft. “John, then.”

“My secretary will ring yours,” John says, abruptly pulling open the door and slumping into the passenger seat. 

“I didn’t know that,” Dave says again, to Rodney. 

Rodney, whose sister persistently called him ‘Mer’ when she got frustrated but switched to ‘bro’ as soon as he told her what she was doing, shrugs. Dave might not have known about the thing their father did, but he sure knew John didn’t like being called ‘Jonathan’ and he did it anyway. Then again, Dave clearly prefers ‘David’ and John never calls him that. Rodney shrugs again. Dave sighs, holds out his hand for Rodney to shake, and leaves. When Rodney gets in the car John’s found the thermos of coffee and the bottle of water. The coffee he manages to spill all over his lap trying to get into it, and the water bottle he tries to chuck out the window. 

“Jesus,” Rodney grumbles. 

“Oops,” John says, passing Rodney both and trying to look contrite. He just looks goofy, though, because he’s grinning. “Didja meet my brother, Rodney? That was David Sheppard.”

“Yes, funnily, we bumped into each other,” Rodney says, starting the engine. 

“What a quinkydink,” John says.

“‘Quinkydink’, huh?” Rodney says, pulling up to a light and glancing at John, who looks pleased with himself. 

“Yup. I’m gonna go visit Teyla. Escape from him,” John says. 

“O...kay? I thought you wanted to see him again?”

“He. Our father,” John stutters to a stop, gulps down some water, then braces himself. “Used to show up.”

“You dad used to show up?”

“Yes. Didn’t tell him where, there he’d be. When I lef-lef… left, when I left… when I left he start-start-start… did it again. Dave showed up at my work, Rodney.”

“Yes he did.”

“Didn’t like that.”

“No.”

“Teyla’s nice.”

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna come too?” John asks, voice small. 

“Oh! You want me to? Yes, I’ll come,” Rodney says. John nods, looking relieved. 

“Not running away.”

“She always has good beer,” Rodney says, smiling. “ _ Canadian  _ beer.”

Later, lying on the livingroom floor together while John rides the whiskey buzz listening to old Johnny Cash records, John says he’ll see Dave again. But after Teyla’s and the good beer and Torren and Marta and Kanaan and Teyla and- Rodney gets him to stop listing people there, thankfully, because Teyla’s house has a revolving door, people coming and going all the time. Rodney rubs John’s stomach and tells him about the breakthrough him and Radek are not getting on the project, and John tells him a rambling story about ‘the math proof that could’, and Rodney laughs so hard he scares Gwaihir right out of the room. It’s not a bad end to a day, really. 


End file.
